


Clean and Jerk

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, The Academy Is...
Genre: Breathplay, M/M, Manhandling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:05:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike Carden has swimmer's muscles and Mikey just happens to be in Santa Monica to use them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean and Jerk

**Author's Note:**

> For the mini-kink bingo square "held down". Thanks to inlovewithnight for the beta.

Mikey normally doesn’t frequent Santa Monica, but Alicia wants a weekend away and a day at the Pier, so they spend the night in some hotel. When he wakes up, Alicia’s still asleep, but Mikey’s wired, so he slips out and goes to Starbucks then hits the local branch of his regular gym.

He sweats through his regular workout, hating every minute on the elliptical, but not nearly as much as he hates the treadmill. The weight reps are fine, and the rest of the machines aren’t a problem, but his clothes stick to him like a second skin as he makes his way along the pool toward the changing rooms.

He watches a dark streak cut through the water, surfacing in a smooth movement and the solid arc of powerful arms. Mikey stops to appreciate the form, the arms graceful as they dive under the water’s surface, barely making a sound. He also appreciates the ass in the SpeedO, especially when the guy gets to the end of the lane and boosts himself out on the side of the pool. He’s tanned and muscular, the white of his thighs where his SpeedO has ridden up bright against the dark skin, and water sluicing down his body. Mikey raises an eyebrow, watching with stark appreciation as the guy bends over and grabs a towel, rubbing his hair dry before he drops the towel to his shoulders.

Mikey knows everyone, even the people that not everyone knows, but recognizing them out of their usual milieu isn’t always easy. Especially when they’re about three-quarters naked, have acquired a hell of a lot more muscle definition, and are in the local Gold’s Gym in Santa Monica. “Carden?”

Mike’s busy stuffing his feet into some pool shoes, and he squints up at Mikey. His hair is blonder, even in the lights of the pool, and Mikey feels like maybe he doesn’t know him at all. “Way. Hi.”

“You’re swimming.”

“Not right now.” Mike smiles, and it’s open and natural, and Mikey realizes that he looks relaxed. Who knows how many laps he had done before Mikey walked by, but it’s more than that. It’s like some sort of weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “What are you doing? Slumming?”

“Sightseeing.”

“At the Gold’s gym. I guess you get bored of all the exotic countries and world travel, huh? I can take you down the street to a Denny’s. If you’re feeling really crazy, we can crash a Wal-Mart or a Target.”

“I don’t know if I can handle that kind of excitement.” Mikey walks over to him and they fall in step heading for the locker room. “But I’ll buy if you want to hit up a Starbucks.”

“How many coffees have you had today?”

“Since I woke up? Two. One in the hotel room and one on the way here.”

“And how big were those cups?”

“The one at the hotel was cup sized.” Mikey smiles as Mike laughs and heads for the shower. Mikey gathers his stuff and follows him in, rinsing off most of the sweat before toweling off and combing his fingers through his hair. Mike comes out not much later, still smelling slightly of chlorine. “So, coffee?”

“Yeah.” Mike slings a duffle bag over his shoulder, pulling his t-shirt tight. “Lead the way, since I imagine you have every coffee house in town mapped into your memory.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Mikey gives him a little grin and leads the way down the street. It’s not actually a Starbucks, which earns it bonus points, but Mike doesn’t seem to care, since he just orders a black coffee. Mikey wrinkles his nose and orders his usual, ignoring Mike’s smirk. He comes over to the table and lifts an eyebrow of his own in response. “Be nice. I bought you coffee.”

“Well, you still have a job, so that’s only fair.” Mike grins and taps his cup against Mikey’s as Mikey sits down. “I’m just a starving college student living on Top Ramen and grilled cheese.”

“Yeah. I can tell that’s what you’re surviving on.” Mikey laughs and sips his coffee. “You live here in Santa Monica?”

“Yeah. Emma and I have a place. She’s still working for Jared, and I’m…bumming off of her, I guess. Going to school. Swimming for the college team.”

“Really? What are you studying?”

“Basic stuff right now. Trying to get back into the swing of things. Then business classes, I think.”

“Not music?”

“I know how to play music.” The curve of Mike’s lips isn’t quite a smile, and Mikey nods. He gets it. “Hopefully in the future there’ll be contracts. Gigs. Deals. Who knows, right? I just want to make sure I don’t get screwed over.”

Mikey’s known Pete too long to not recognize dangerous ground, so he just nods. “You should show me your place. Alicia’s got an appointment at the salon for some spa thing, so I’m at loose ends.”

Mike looks at him for a long time. Mikey’s known for either being too subtle or not subtle enough, and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t managed the middle ground on this, especially given the way he keeps staring at Mike’s shoulders. Mike finishes his coffee and sets his cup down, his eyes deliberately raking Mikey from head to foot. “Sure. Why the hell not?”

**

Mike and Emma live in something Mikey thinks would probably be classified as a bungalow, though it doesn’t look like anything from Gilligan’s Island. Hanging out with Jared Leto must pay _really_ well. It’s two steps down into the living room, and there’s a bar along the wall. “Wow. Fancy.”

“Emma lived here. I just moved in and took over a room to put my guitars in.” Mike leans back against the bar and watches Mikey. His eyes are dark, not giving anything away. “So, you want the grand tour, or you want me to just fuck you right here?”

Mikey chokes on his indrawn breath. “Wow. Um.”

“Working with Beckett teaches you not to beat around the bush.” Mike pushes off the bar. “Well, actually, it teaches you to finesse around his diva temperament, but if you really want something, you have to reach out and take it.” He grabs Mikey by the back of the neck and pulls him in. Mikey’s taller, but Mike is definitely stronger, the muscles in his arms moving beneath his skin, catching Mikey’s eye. “Which is what you’re hoping for, right?”

“Yeah.” Mikey admits breathlessly. “Yes.”

“Good.” Mike puts pressure on Mikey’s neck, turning him around. Mikey leans into his grip, resisting slightly, but Mike manages to propel him forward anyway. It’s possibly the hottest thing Mikey’s had happen to him in a while, which makes him resist harder, just to see if Mike will _make_ him move. His fingers tighten on Mikey’s neck and Mikey groans under his breath, stumbling forward into the dining room and against the dark wood table.

Mikey’s knees hit the leg of the table and he bends over, splaying over the top. Mike stands close behind him, his knees behind Mikey’s, keeping him pinned in place. Mikey has to bite back a moan at the pressure, and it’s hard not to push back against Mike and see if he’ll keep him from moving. “You’re kind of obvious, Way.”

“A-am I?” Mikey’s breathless already, worse when Mike’s hands slide beneath Mikey’s shirt, pushing up against his skin, massaging his way roughly up to Mikey’s shoulders. Mikey groans against the wood, his breath moist against his lips. He grinds forward, pressing his dick against the table before he thrusts back against the hard wall of Mike’s body.

“Yeah.” Mike’s rakes his fingers down Mikey’s back to the waistband of his jeans , short nails scraping at the skin. “Telegraph what you want.”

Mikey shoves his hips back again. “What do I want?”

Mike moves faster than Mikey expects, his hand circling the back of Mikey’s neck, forcing him to turn his head as Mike doesn’t stop pushing until his fingers are touching the table. Mikey fights for breath, but Mike doesn’t relent, and it seems like every one of Mike’s muscles is focused on keeping Mikey completely still. What little air Mikey can get is trapped in little hiccupping gasps in his chest. “This. This is what you want, isn’t it?”

His nod is barely a movement, but Mikey’s fairly certain that Mike knows it’s an agreement from the way he shifts his weight, his other hand settling in the small of Mikey’s back and holding him perfectly still as Mike begins to thrust, rubbing the bulge of his dick against the cleft of Mikey’s ass, the slide of denim against faded denim drowning out the small sounds Mikey manages to make.

Mikey tries to move, but Mike’s holding him captive, unable to do more than rise up on his toes to try to get Mike closer and clench his hands into helpless fists. Mike is relentless, thrusting hard, driving his body against Mikey’s so that Mikey’s dick is grinding against the table, pain and pleasure flaring through him. He can feel his orgasm building, warring against the pain to keep his dick hard.

Mike’s breathing hard, not even bothering with words. He grunts softly with every thrust, grinding into Mikey before he pulls back again, over and over until his rhythm stutters and Mikey feels dampness seep into the pressure. Mike rests against him, loosening his grip on Mikey’s neck slightly. He sucks air into his lungs and it shudders out, almost too much. His knees give way and only Mike’s hand on his back keeps him from collapsing to the floor. “G-god. Fuck. Fuck.” Mikey’s voice is hoarse, strange and crowded in his throat.

Mike fists his hand in Mikey’s shirt and pulls him upright, his free arm wrapping around Mikey’s front, forearm against his neck. The fingers in his shirt release and then there’s pressure again, Mike’s hand rubbing Mikey through his jeans. Mikey hips won’t work, and he keeps thrusting erratically until Mike wraps a leg around him, holding him still against him so he can take control. Mikey’s dick aches and his head drops back, Mike’s hair tickling his skin.

“Please. Please. Shit. Please.” The words sound foreign, still scratchy, but they serve their purpose, the movements of Mike’s hand speeding up, rubbing Mikey until everything goes bright behind his eyes and his body jerks. His knees are gone, and not even Mike’s strength feels like it’s enough to hold him upright. Mike unhooks his leg from around Mikey and uses it to tug out a chair, dumping Mikey into it.

“Beer?”

Mikey nods, resting his head on the table. He feels like all his vital functions are on the edge of exploding, his lungs and heart and ears and eyes oversaturated to the point where it all hurts in the best way possible. “Holy fuck.”

Mike comes back with two beers, twists the top off one and sets it in front of Mikey. “You okay?”

“Yeah. No. Fuck. I’m going to make Alicia take up swimming.” He takes a drink from his beer then rests his head on the table again. “Wow.”

Mike smirks and takes a pull from his bottle. “You want me to wash your jeans?”

Mikey doesn’t lift his head. “That requires moving.”

“I could just dump your ass on the floor and pull them off you.” He laughs as Mikey raises an eyebrow. “And you get off on that. I’d heard rumors about you Ways.”

“All true. Well, no. The weirder ones…well. The incest ones aren’t, but most of the rest are.” He glances across the room at his gym bag. “I could just change into my sweats.”

“You could.” Mike gets up and strips down to damp boxers then grabs his jeans and his own gym bag, picking up Mikey’s and tossing to him. “But I’m going to wash my shit, and if you want me to play house husband to you, you’ve got to strip.”

“You’re bossy. It _is_ just like home.” Mikey grins. “Let me call Alicia and see what our schedule is. She wants to go to some street fair.”

“Yeah. You guys could do that and come back later tonight if you want. Emma’ll probably cook something healthy, but we can get beer and wine included in the deal. Your pants’ll be dry and you’ll get a meal out of it.”

“And more sex?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Take your damn pants off, Way.”  



End file.
